


The Blind Date

by Butterflyfish



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4798982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterflyfish/pseuds/Butterflyfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitchell goes on a blind date, and decides to test himself and his abstinence from feeding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blind Date

_I can't separate the two._

Mitchell watched the brunette slide between the table and the seat, heading off to the ladies

_I can't separate the two._

He swallowed, hard, thankful that she'd taken her damned delightful scent with her.

He turned and watched her saunter away, then bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to make him groan aloud.

 ** _I. Can't. Separate. The. Two._** He thinks again, loud and ringing in his own head. He should have never agreed to a blind date, never, but people had started acting weird around him until he finally relented.

 _"There's just something about her, I think you'll get on great"_ He'd been told, as he sighed and accepted the offer after months of excuses. Annie was nonplussed, and that had upset him. 

If he was being brutally honest it kind of made him want to enjoy himself, as if to spite the poor girl, who was probably just too polite to show she was hurt. He took a deep breath, and instantly regretted it. His nostrils flared and the brunette whooshed past him in a cloud of smells and hormones. His pulse raced, and his basal needs threatened to jump to the surface. 

Not even his needs as a vampire... His needs as a man. 

The girl was stunning, Tall, beautiful. Huge green eyes each framed by a million thick black lashes. She was cool, and charming, and all he wanted to do was find somewhere they could go and fuck. 

It was hard to tell, often times, if it was the man or the vampire in him. He'd abstained for so long, would the need even be there? This thought had intrigued him for a while, but why risk it? There was a time he could barely bash out a wank without gripping too hard and sinking his teeth into a pillow. Not any more. 

He should never have agreed to a blind date.

* * *

 

 She blinked slowly at him across the table, playing some coy first date game, no doubt. He watched each and every one of her lashes flutter with the movement of her eyelids. Noticed the change in the size of her pupil as it adjusted to the darkness, then the light again, in a fraction of a second. Even the air transference from her blinking sent waves of her natural, heady perfume his way. 

He sat up straight, leaned away. He knew he was built to make the girls lust, he wasn't helping his own situation. Maybe if he turned off the charm, stumbled, fumbled and mumbled through the next drink or two... Channeled his inner George. He felt himself laugh at that, more so than hear it he felt it on his face, that lopsided grin. He looked at her again, and could now hear and smell her pulse. He'd done that, he'd quickened her heartbeat with a simple smile. That was kind of empowering if nothing else. He wondered how far he could take this...

He looked into his almost empty glass and resolved that alcohol was also not helping him in this situation. Wondering how far he could take it? What kind of thinking was that for a vampire on the wagon? As he looked up again at the gorgeous brunette she licked her lips, oh so painfully slowly, and offered him another. 

Looking back he thinks that is when Mitchell the man dissappeared, and Mitchell the vampire took over, but he'll never be sure

He can't separate the two.

* * *

 

 in the back of the cab they wound themselves around each other. A tangle of hair and hands and lips and, dare he be so bold, teeth. 

She was good, firm and lustful kisses, hands in his hair, pulling, needing, desperate. He admitted to himself that he missed this. Even if he usually did not, now he had it, he realised he missed it. 

He was just still man enough to know that much. 

In her flat she dragged him by the shirt to her bedroom, all but threw him on the bed. That was different, new, he was the thrower, the pusher, the rough one. But here she was, bent over him as he lay half sitting between her legs, hair over her face and on his torso, already down to her underwear. 

 

He helped her pull his shirt off, and she trailed soft kisses and tiny nips across his torso, down lower and lower until she was faced with his fly. She ripped at it, grunting, and he lay his head back and groaned in anticipation. 

It was good to be free, to have the painful pressure of straining against his zip taken off. 

She looked up at him beneath those unbelievable lashes

"Oh Mitchell, it's so big" her eyes were wide, scared. Mitchell knew that a part of her brain was telling her to run, as far and as fast as  possible from this man. That something in his face had already changed, some warning sign had already started.

But it was too late.

He sat up and encircled her waist with his arms, crashing his lips against hers, reaching between her legs. He pulled the scrap of material masquerading as panties to one side and buried his length deep inside her. 

He had missed this.

Warm, moist, and not least of all tight enough to almost be painful. She gasped in shock and stiffened at first, but melted around him, explored his mouth with her own and began to rock her hips to some beat only they could hear. She moaned and writhed atop him, squeezing his throbbing cock with strong muscles deep inside her dark wet cavern.

he felt a familiar twitch in his groin, and the world blurred to red and black. The only sound the lubdub rhythm of her heartbeat, the only smells the natural heady aroma of sweat, hormones, and blood. He leaned back, grabbed her tighter, as she orgasmed in a noisy writhing mess, and as he came fast and hard inside her, he threw his body forward and sank his newly exposed canines into her pulsating jugular. 

Her moans chNged in tone, and she grappled against him, scratching and clawing at his back, writhing in pain, but he held on tight as her life flowed into him, just as his seed of life had flown into her. 

He can't separate the two.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a 30-ish year old's fantasy, ignighted by the re run of the series on BBC3.
> 
> Sorry it's not a Mitchell I know a lot of people love...


End file.
